Coronavirus Journal Entry #3

Greenwich Village

Photo taken by author

I sit here writing this as helicopters buzz in my ear like incessant bumblebees and smashed headlights littered all over my block. The world is going through a historic time, but before I get into that, let's backtrack to a few weeks ago.

When my dad lost his sense of taste and was bed-ridden for three weeks, we packed up and crammed all six of us into a house in New Jersey towards the end of March. We wanted to avoid looting and rioting that could result from the anxiety that tends to blossom during a pandemic. But these riots began as soon as we got back to the City, motivated by a completely different cause than we had not expected--racially-charged acts of police brutality.

When we returned to the city, the first thing we did was hold a family meeting and implement hard rules: no going outside after dark, no walking with shoes on outside of the foyer, wash each piece of fruit and vegetable for at least twenty seconds, and wear your mask at all times when outside (even in the elevator). A week later, we managed to make an appointment at a clinic a block away to get tested for the coronavirus antibodies. As we walked to the clinic, all in a line next to each other and taking up the whole sidewalk as there were no other pedestrians to be seen, the narrative that I had been playing in my head these past few weeks quickly switched from don't get sick don't get sick to I hope I had it I hope I had it. The much-anticipated results trickled in throughout that week: everyone in my family tested positive except for my Mom and my youngest brother, Archie. I was shocked. Dumbfounded even. I hadn't so much as had a headache these past few weeks yet people were dying from the same disease I had contracted. The other results shocked me. My Dad was sick for a week before my Mom moved out of the bed they shared. Also, how can one brother have gotten the virus and not the other when they're always around each other? Through researching, I learned that it was only accurate 70% of the time. My next question was, what does this actually mean for me? I'm not going to stop wearing masks outside, I'm not going to stop washing fruit or taking off my shoes inside. I'm not going to start taking the subway and licking the poles. What's the point other than a shoulder shrug and a half-hearted "it's nice to know?" Especially since it could also be a false positive.

Amidst all of this fear and confusion, police brutality of African-Americans has demanded the spotlight, and rightfully so. Many are now putting their foot down as the death toll has ticked up: Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, and many other innocent lives. There have been many peaceful protests throughout the US, but the media seems to only have its fingers on the pulse of the protests that capture the public's attention: riots. Tales of smashed windows and gunshots and in-your-face altercations inject much needed excitement into life in quarantine. I, personally, usually don't agree with any form of violence to resolve an issue; but in this particular instance, I think some of it is necessary. If this is what has to be done to prevent more innocent lives from being snatched by the police and finally harness the media's attention, then so be it. There have been peaceful protests in the past but nothing has changed. Objects can be replaced but lives can not. Having said that, it is saddening to hear that people are only focusing on the violent aspect of the resistance as it distracts from the main message that black lives matter. Others are using the movement as an excuse to loot stores or gain followers on social media for something they only support on the surface. In my opinion, anti-racist work needs to start with yourself internally first, and only then can it be broadcasted to your social circle. The most important step in becoming anti-racist as opposed to just non-racist is educating yourself. People who have to suffer from these injustices shouldn't have to educate you in concepts you can find out yourself. My recommendations for learning more about the racism inextricably tied to our country's history is the 1619 podcast from the New York Times as well as Code Switch, a podcast by NPR. For TV, I would suggest When They See Us on Netflix. You can also join me in reading The Blacker the Berry by Wallace Thurman and The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison this summer.

This is a sensitive topic to talk about. I often, as I'm sure many of my white friends can attest, am petrified that I'll say the "wrong" thing. But I know now that I am not allowed to have those fears. Not when people are dying. We have to talk about it and start those conversations. It's the only way anything will change. Trust me, educating yourself about these injustices will make these conversations easier to have. This is not a problem for those suffering to fix on their own and not a problem that will be easily fixed. It's a human problem because humans are dying. We have to chip away at it piece by piece and be OK with messing up because you're trying--and you're not alone in your efforts.